The Female Vanguard (rewrite)
by SomeoneThatExists
Summary: "I didn't actually know at the time that I had died, only that I heard two gunshots before everything was black. I only made that realization myself when I opened my eyes to blood and all sorts of fleshy bits surrounding me everywhere. Well sh*t was not enough to describe my current situation." (this is a rewrite of my other fic under the same name) OC story, rated T for language!
1. Prologue

**So I actually made it. And with an actual backstory, even, wow.**

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 **Disclaimer:** _I don't own Dragon Age in any way shape or form._

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 **/Prologue\**

My story starts with two words:

I died.

It's...not a particularly good start to any story, really.

In fact, I would very much like a refund of my life, if possible, considering that there were also flesh-eating cannibals, way too archaic people and handsome men with fabulous hair. Not that I particularly regret the handsome one with gorgeous hair but I digress.

So! I died.

It wasn't particularly memorable, well, to me at least. I know my brother mourned me but that was about it.

I think we'd better step back and look over what happened again.

The day I died was a Friday. No, it was not a Friday the thirteenth kind of thing, I really just happened to die on Friday. I think that would be really cool though if it was a Friday the thirteenth. Kind of superstitious. See, I'm giving myself the chills.

Anyway, I distinctly remember it was a Friday simply because my brother was supposed to pick me up from school. Yes, I am still in high school, and yes I am smart enough to be in all the advanced classes. Not that I'm rubbing it in your face, you haven't done anything to me. I'd love to rub it in everyone else's faces though, that would be nice. Yes, my bro already has a family of his own. We're eleven years apart in age but it doesn't really bother us unlike some people who think of it weird.

Now about my brother picking me up: he didn't. That kind of ruined my happy Friday for me. I'd missed his call during class about not being able to pick me up because of his children getting into some kind of trouble. His wife was apparently busy in work and he was the only one available to pick them up ASAP.

Friday was usually our pizza powwows at my apartment. We also go on a serious food binge and play some hilarious video games for our weekly bonding. I seldom see him nowadays, with his familial responsibilities and all, and I didn't really have any friends at school who comes over. Fridays were usually all the time we had to ourselves so it kind of pissed me that he wasn't able to come over.

I couldn't begrudge him his responsibilities though. I knew he had new problems beside taking care of his estranged little sister living alone in an near-empty apartment.

I've been living alone at that apartment after some paperwork was filled out about my turning into an adult. I liked the silence and the peace most of the time, but my brother was still a constant presence in my life and despite the horribly short moments we have left to ourselves, we still bond and stay together as much as we can.

Him ditching kind of hurt but I understood. Didn't mean I had to like it though.

So anyway: he didn't pick me up. I was pissy. I was sulky. I was like a child with a tantrum as I walked—stomped—home.

Now, you might think that I might have been too sulky and caught up in my woes that I didn't look both ways when I crossed the street which led me to my car crash death.

Don't be silly, I was angsty, not stupid.

Nah, I didn't die until I got home.

I'm not entirely sure if it was my fault for my carelessness or if it was the robbers fault they got sloppy with the break-in but I think I shouldn't have entered my apartment when I saw the so-very-obviously broken door hinges. I had just blinked at it and decided to enter like my door wasn't broken.

I suspected a break-in. I _knew_ there was a break-in, my door couldn't have been busted like that otherwise. It was just that it was so unlikely to happen to me—me in the middle of a heavily populated suburban area where everyone can hear _everything,_ I mean, oh good lord the gossips!—that I just entirely dropped my guard. I also did not really expect the robber to actually be _still_ in the apartment. You'd think that he would have been finished already, the idiot.

Well, I guess I really am stupid. We—the robber and I—both are, I guess.

That was really the final coherent thought I had. Next thing I know, I'm on my back on the carpeted floor from getting a wooden frame to my face thanks to a robber that had magically appeared on the corner.

The next thought processes I could manage was predominantly painpainpain _PAIN_ —and squinting my eyes in the dark and seeing the robber pointing a gun at my face.

And well, after that, you can guess what happened next.

No I didn't die yet, don't get so excited.

In panic, I kicked him in the balls. I actually didn't aim for that spot, my leg was just conveniently in between his so I just kicked up, up and up and—bam! A solid hit.

My brother would be so proud.

And kicking balls are actually hard, my toes actually got hurt at that and I was wearing sturdy shoes. Or maybe its just the natural resilience of the human body? Well, I didn't really have time to ponder that at that moment, I was too busy scrambling back to my feet and avoiding the groaning man who had collapsed against the wall clutching his family jewels. I managed to grab the frame he had hit me silly with on the way to standing on my feet and using my not-that-impressive arm and back muscles, I raised the wooden thing and thumped it solidly on his head. He goes down like a balloon missing air.

Now, you might think I had saved myself and was actually not going to die on that day. Sadly, I still died on that day. I thought there was only one robber. There was actually two.

The second robber I didn't know was there shot me in the back. I go down on my front on the carpet and struggle for breath, trying not to think about the pain which isn't really working since I was too out of it to actually try to control it. I was still running on adrenaline high when I got shot in the head.

He actually double tapped me, that offensive little idiot!

Yeah, I really had no time to contemplate my regrets in that situation.

So, that's how I died. Kind of action movie worthy, don't you think?

I didn't actually know at the time that I had died, only that I heard two gunshots before everything was black.

I only made that realization myself when I opened my eyes to blood and all sorts of fleshy bits surrounding me _everywhere_.

Well shit.

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 **Hi guys~~ So this is the official rewrite of The Female Vanguard, and look there's a backstory now! I don't have much to say right now really, other than to declare that I haven't found the rest of the snippets I've promised to post up on the original fic so that one probably won't be updated unless I find that file (which I still can't find after weeks of searching, what galaxy did it go through?), so yeah, that's really it.**

 **Question time! Do you think I should change the title of this fic? And if yes, do you have any suggestions?**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Dragon Age in any way shape or form._

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 **/Chapter 1\**

I had a thought.

Well, technically it was my brother who gave me the thought but still.

"If I would ever be a baby again?" I pondered the question. Mike hums a yes, continuing on mixing the batter or whatever it was that he was mixing in the bowl. It smelled like chocolate though. Personally, I preferred vanilla, but I'd still eat chocolate. Well, whatever it was, I'll be forever thanking the baking gods for successfully instructing my brother in the finer arts of sugar food-creating.

We were in my living room. Well, I was in the living room, lounging on the couch. He was in the kitchen which is right behind the couch, no border whatsoever. It was summer and the heat was nigh unbearable. I made do with the fan since the air conditioner was only for special events. Gotta save up on money after all.

"I haven't really thought about it." I tousled my hair before settling further into the pillows. "I mean, I probably wouldn't want to experience childbirth _consciously_. Oh gads, the thought is just horrible." Then I made gagging sounds which made Mike chuckle.

"In general though. What do you think of it?" Mike offered again.

I sigh. "It's weird. Improbable. Impossible. Then again, everything, in theory, is impossible until you achieve it or see tangible proof of it."

"So you believe it?" Mike clarifies.

"Well, I don't _un_ believe it but I also don't believe it?" I scratch my head. "What I'm trying to say is that it could be possible, we just don't know about it or something or no one had memories of it or something. Even then that would difficult to prove because you can't exactly see into a person's mind to check if it's true."

I sit up to look over the couch's back rest and see Mike looking thoughtful while still moving his hands at a speed I didn't know was possible. Seriously, how was he doing that?

"If you would be reincarnated then, what do you want to be?" Mike asks again.

I shrug. "I dunno, generally anything except bugs, reptiles or babies. But I'd really rather be born again in my current body, or older." Mike only hums a reply.

Then I sat up straight and looked at his workplace interestedly. "So about that frosting on the counter..."

That's pretty much the end of what we had discussed.

I didn't think of it until after I died and woke up in a strange rubbery kind of place.

The first thought I had was 'yuck'.

The second was 'I'm thirsty.'

Those two phrases summed up most of my stay there.

I wasn't exactly sure how long I stayed there and where I was but I know I was _somewhere_. It was very warm there and everytime I pushed at the walls, I could feel something cold beyond the warmth.

I also didn't know that I had died.

Scrounging up whatever memory I can last recall, I made the genius deduction that I was probably in a coma which was why I could feel but couldn't move anything at all. The longer I stayed there as a mere presence, I began to wonder just how long it has been and how my brother was doing now.

I could barely remember what my brother looked like.

There was when I realized that something was seriously wrong.

I remembered only bits and pieces. The feel of his hair, the smell of his clothes, a brilliantly white smile and bright hazel eyes. I felt like crying when I realized that I couldn't remember his _face_.

There, I thought that I had amnesia. Needless to say, I panicked. I just about had a mental breakdown when I felt a strange sensation. Then I realized that _I could move my arm_. So I did.

I felt like crying. How long has it been already that I thought moving my arm was a strange sensation?

So I pushed, and pushed. And pushed some more.

The lesser progress I had, the more I panicked and the more I panicked, the more frantic my movements became.

It was even more later that I realized I could move my other arm and legs.

I kept working on getting out of wherever I was for as long as I could take it. It was a very long while until I felt the walls break and shift. I made some sort of sound then, and I stuck a limb out of the cracks in the wall that I made. The walls shifted and expanded...

And the air felt like it was burning me alive.

Then I passed out.

I thought, this is probably what it feels like to die.

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 **This felt like an awkward way to end it but I honestly wasn't too sure how to end it either way. I AM SO SORRY I POSTED THIS UP REAL LATE. School is a nightmare especially when you have to catch up with the other requirements you've missed. -cries in despair- I'm not sure when I'll be able to put up the next chapter, because school, but I'll try my hardest to put something up as soon as possible. (Still no promises anytime reals soon though)**

 **Fun fact of the day: Mages who develop powers outside of Thedas' conventional teaching methods, or mages who develop magic outside of the Circle, are called hedge mages. Their magic is oftentimes focused on charms, curses and shapeshifting though of course those are only the common ones. The most notable hedge mages in the game series: Solas and Morrigan. (as usual, credits to the dragon age wikia for these)**

 **Question of the day: If you were a hedge mage in the world of Thedas, what would you like to specialize in?**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Dragon Age in any way shape or form._

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 **/Chapter 2\**

I wasn't sure when exactly I became aware that I was thinking. It felt like I kept forgetting everything that I did. Like short-term memory loss that lasts for a lesser amount of time, which was already weird in and of itself.

What I found weird was that when I 'woke up' again from this weird coma thing I was going through, was that I woke up in a cave. I wasn't exactly sure but I was surrounded by rock caverns and... I don't know, it looked like a cave at least. It was dark too, did I mention that. Really dark, though my eyes adjusted well enough.

Also, it smelled damp. It had that weird stale air smell.

None of my observations really made sense to me at the time and I had no idea what to do with it anyway so I just settled where I was and waited. It wasn't until a long time had passed, enough to be a day(or two) I think, that I realized my wrists were strapped onto a wooden chair and that I was seated in the middle of a lab-like cavern room.

I had a brief what the fuck moment where I wondered how I didn't notice it earlier.

Right after that, I immediately tried to move. Nothing happened. I think I just about overloaded my brain trying to concentrate on it moving my body. It was eventual but I could eventually feel twitches and ghost sensations which my body briefly reacted to. That was the thing though. Ghost sensations. I wasn't entirely sure I was moving at all.

It was days worth of mind-numbing weariness and sluggishness that I went through before I could move an entire arm and a leg. I tried not to think, or cry, about how much longer it would be to try walking, let alone running.

It took a while but eventually I started asking myself: how on earth did I get bound onto the chair?

Honestly, I was stumped.

I thought that I had somehow strapped myself but that would be impossible considering how securely I was stuck there. It was more likely that someone else had tied me there. Well, there's a thought.

And then, lo and behold, a few hours later and a cosplayer walks in. A really good cosplayer. A cosplayer who must have some screws loose if he thinks he can just kidnap someone who just woke up and knows nothing into somewhere dark, dank and clammy.

I have to say though, he has a taste for drama, with how he holds up that torch (a _legit_ torch, this guy must be the real deal) that illuminated half his face and concealed the other half in darkness, all while stalking quietly on cloth shoes with his robe gently billowing in an imaginary wind.

I squinted at him. He was wearing one of those weird mage robes thing from that game I used to play ages ago. Something about dragons and eras, I think? Dragon Era? Dragon Time just sounds like it could be something from a music video parody or a children's cartoon. Dragon Age, maybe was the name. I wasn't really updated on the latest games these days since I am currently hooked up on...well, what game was I hooked up on?

Before I began panicking over my lost memories, _again_ , the odd cosplayer speaks.

In gibberish.

I blink and force my throat to work and croak out, " _What?_ "

He nears me then and crouches in front of me. He places the torch right between us and I get a good look at his face.

He doesn't...look so bad. I mean, if you ignored the gaunt cheeks and the emaciated look he pulls off expertly, he could be jumped by anyone. Oh, he also needs a bath or two. Or three. Maybe even four, considering that I can't tell anymore if he's naturally a brunette or if those were legit blonde locks I could spy under the dirt.

He opens his mouth to speak and I twitch in brief horror when I catch a glimpse of yellowed cracked and missing teeth. Either way, I still don't understand what he's saying. It was evident that he realized our communication dilemma when I direct my best deadpan face at him and answer him with another flat-toned 'what'.

He huffs and places the torch on a stand on a nearby table (how did that table _get there?!_ ) before dragging a chair over and sitting on it right in front of me.

He leans forward a bit and unsheathes a tiny jagged dagger from somewhere behind his back and I had a brief moment of fear when he places it close to my face. Of course, that was before I realize he was actually examining the blade under the torch fire. Whew.

Then before I could react, he slices it deep across his other hand and blood spurts out and— _ohmygod he's blood bending what the fuck_.

I will admit to a few seconds of bafflement and bewilderment—a few precious seconds where he forces his bleeding hand down my throat, causing me to choke in reflex. I register shrieking in outrage and revulsion late enough that he's already retracting his hand and wiping a disgusting trail of saliva and blood down the side of his already-dirtied robe.

"Now," he suddenly rasps, "do you understand me?"

I gawk.

Then I open my mouth to answer—

And vomit instead.

I mean, _what the fuck just happened?!_

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 **I'll give you three guesses as to how he did that, and the first two don't count. Should be pretty obvious, I mean, _blood bending_ , pffft. Honestly, I have no excuses as to how long I took to put this up. I would say school, but even that excuse feels old to me, despite it being true. We're so close to summer break though and the teachers are cramming all these things down our brains. Summer breaaaaaaak, goddammit I need youuuuu.**

 ** _Fun fact of the day_ :** **The Disciples of Andraste was a cult thought to precede even the Chantry, and was kept so hidden and isolated that they survived into the modern day. They were thought to be descendants of the first followers of Andraste and dedicated their lives to protecting her Ashes by creating a temple to house and guard (now known as the Temple of Sacred Ashes) deep in the Frostback Mountains, in the place named Haven. Due to their isolation, however, scholars believed they were forced to commit inbreeding, contributing to a greater strain of madness which eventually caused them to worship a High Dragon. The cult and the Dragon was killed by the Hero of Ferelden in 9:30 Dragon.**

 ** _Question of the day_ : What do you guys think could happen if, for whatever unknown reason, this cult eventually broke out of isolation during the time of the Chantry and made contact with ordinary Fereldans? Personally I think it would be the cause of a war between the Chantry and the cult and its believers, despite being based on the same beliefs, with the fight mainly focusing on religious traditions (like how there are revered fathers in Haven but none in the Chantry).**


	4. Chapter 3

**Guys.**

 **Guys I love you lot so much didya know that.**

 **Thanks for all the new faves and follows!**

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 **Disclaimer:** _I don't own Dragon Age in any way shape or form._

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 **/Chapter 3\**

Pizza is great. Tomato sauce is great. Ketchup is great. Strawberry juice is great. I could list other red, red-ish, colored drinks but then I'd be here all night.

But bloody hand down my throat? Not so much.

It's been approximately an hour—or twenty-four (maybe more, I can't exactly tell) since the cosplayer—which I am starting to think is not a cosplayer at all—stuck his hand down my throat and asked if I finally understood him. I am currently thinking how on earth he did that.

Better yet, I think to myself as I look around in this dark dank cavern, _where_ on earth can people get the power to stick their lifeblood-smeared hand down people's throat to make them understand themselves? I am honestly wondering how the heck is this happening right now.

I think I'm in some cave. That, I'm very sure of. The bats were a big giveaway.

Maybe I'm in the Batcave. Maybe Batman will come swooping in from the dark.

Ha.

Other than that, I'm getting a faint barbeque smell mixed with something putrid. Like...I can't even compare it actually, but it smells _really_ bad. And the damp, stale air smell. There's that too.

Do you see how my grammar is deteriorating from how long I've been staying here?

I keep glimpsing weirdly-shaped glasses on the wooden table to my right. I hear bubbling too. Those cute little pops keep popping somewhere to my right. I kinda wished the cosplayer left his torch here now too. I don't mind the popping but it's making me really curious.

You know, maybe I should think of this in a different light. Maybe I could somehow convince myself I'm on vacation. In a cave.

What do vacationers do in caves anyway? Spelunking? Though I don't think this getting-tied-up-on-a-chair BDSM business is part of spelunking.

Sigh.

I look up when I hear a faint sound. Steps? Oh, it is. And getting closer too. Maybe it's the cosplayer.

And it is. And he has blood on his hands and down the front of his monk outfit.

Well, probably better than the vomit down my chest. Its a matter of preference, and I find myself preferring the blood.

Of course, when the cosplayer puts the torch in a stand somewhere to the right, I get a glimpse of endless vials on a rotting wooden table. There were tiny glass ones, big round ones, all arranged according to height. There was also an odd clamp and forceps and other tools scattered among the glasses.

It's like the one my chemistry professor had! Except the rotting table of course. My teacher had a metal counter instead because he's posh and had class.

The cosplayer taking a seat in front of me with a rotting wooden stool breaks me out of my mental tangent. He stares at me with this reverent, fascinated look on his face. I blink at him somewhat tiredly and try to recoil back when his scarred hands hover near my face. I couldn't recoil. I was tied securely.

"Creep." I hiss at him, stretching my head back and _away_ from his creeping, dirty hands. "Dude, get your dirty hands outta my face!" I demand desperately.

He doesn't. In fact, he places them so close I couldn't move unless I wanted him to actually touch me.

I am very stiff as he actually cups my left cheek and slowly, _intimately_ , caresses it with a thumb. The reverent look on his face morphs into outright worship and something along the lines of oh-my-god-i-can't-believe-i-am-doing-this.

"Ya know," I begin tensely, "This is the reason you don't get girls throwing themselves into your pole-thin arms."

"...You're so beautiful." he breathes and I get a faceful of bad breath.

Oh. Thanks. But you can tell that to me without kidnapping me.

"Such beauty...you truly are Urthemiel's daughter." he cooed, bringing his face closer to mine. I get an eyeful of bloodshot blue eyes and a slightly crooked nose. "A true descendant..."

Whose daughter did he say I was?

"Look," I begin as diplomatically as I can, "Can't you just like, lemme go or something? Why'd ya even bring me here?"

"I found you, Daughter of my Lord." he whispered, confided as if spilling out a deep, dark secret. "Milord was so _kind_ and _gracious_ to have had entrusted me with your care." He caresses my other cheek with the back of his hand. I cringe. "Rest assured, dear princess, I will keep you safe for milord." He lets my face go—finally!—but then he rests his head on my bound hand. He smiled up at me.

Dude this is like some fucked up Romeo and Juliet happening here right now.

Romeo and dead Juliet.

I don't think I'm gonna like this vacation.

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 **I have no new trivia but I do have a question and a sickness:**

 **You favorite Inquisition party member and why?**


End file.
